Taking Action
by Peppahmint
Summary: Oliver and Enrique are in love, but just can't seem to get together. Robert and Johnny are having the same problem. Of course, Robert's attempted suicide and Oliver's natural perfectionist tendencies aren't helping much. What will Johnny and Eni do?
1. Its getting harder and harder to breathe

Angel: Sorry if Robert is acting a little OOC. It's necessary for the story.  
  
Disclaimer's Note: I don't own Beyblade, the Majestics, Maroon 5, or "Harder to Breathe".  
  
Song: "Harder to Breathe" by Maroon 5  
  
". . ." speaking '. . .' thinking /. . ./ song lyrics  
  
* * * * *Robert's POV* * * * *  
  
I lost. That's all there is to it. I lost. . .to Tyson. How could I have let this happen? I feel like I've let everyone down. Ha. Why is it that whenever someone is depressed, they usually think something like this? Maybe because it's the bloody truth. I honestly do feel as if I let everyone down. I know I could've won that match against Tyson-Tyson is an amateur, nothing more. I can't understand why I am letting him plague my thoughts so much. If I'd won, then there would've been a tie. If we won the tie, then we'd be off to Russia and the World Tournament, and we might have been able to put-actually, we would have been able to put-another World Championship under our belts. I feel almost as if I gave the match to Tyson. I can't understand why. Maybe. . .maybe it has something to do with the look he was giving me. . .  
  
/ How dare you say that my behavior is unacceptable  
  
So condescending unnecessarily critical  
  
I have the tendency of getting very physical  
  
So watch your step cause if I do you'll need a miracle/  
  
Why the h*** would he give me that look, especially when he let us down just as much as I did? Did he-do they-really idolize me that much? It's flattering, really. Or at least it would be, if I was that shallow. I can see past their facades. They're all as clueless as I am. And let me tell you, it's a rare moment. I'm never clueless. Oh well, you know what they say-never say never.  
  
That does it. I'm fed up with all this. Who do I think I'm kidding? They're exhausting me. We've been like this for weeks, just bumming around my castle, looking depressed. Despite the fact that I'm just as depressed as they are, I've been trying to cheer them up.  
  
/You drain me dry and make me wonder why I'm even here  
  
This Double Vision I was seeing is finally clear  
  
You want to stay but you know very well I want you gone  
  
Not fit to funkin' tread the ground I'm walking on/  
  
Enrique ignores me, Oliver just looks as me as if I've grown an extra head (granted, I could use one right about now), and he just glares at me. There I go with the he again. But seriously, I'm so upset with him right now, I'm not going to even grant him the pleasure of a name.  
  
Argh!!! Why don't they just hurry up and go?! Can I make it any more clear that there's not enough room for 2 depressed people, let alone 4, in this house?!!! The tension is starting to get to me. I'm drained. I'll admit it. I can't last one more frickin' day in this. Isn't there anyone out there who'll understand me?  
  
/When it gets cold outside and you got nobody to love You'll understand what I mean when I say  
  
There's no way we're gonna give up  
  
And like a little girl cries in the face of a monster that lives in her dreams  
  
Is there anyone out there cause it's getting harder and harder to breathe  
  
Is there anyone out there cause it's getting harder and harder to breathe/  
  
Guess not. I'm an orphan-my aunt and uncle are supposed to be raising me, but they've just left me in a little castle of my own, with a few servants to do my chores. I have no body to love, and no one who loves me. Actually, that's a lie. If he could just return my love, then I'd have all of the above. I may have all the money in the world, but money can't buy you happiness. And that's the one thing I need right now. But right now, everyone apparently takes me for granted.  
  
/What you are doing is screwing things up inside my head  
  
You should know better you never listened to a word I said  
  
Clutching your pillow and writhing in a naked sweat  
  
Hoping somebody someday will do you like I did/  
  
There were times in which they made me think differently. But all they were doing was messing with my head. I don't think they meant anything by it, but they still did it. I don't think they even knew what they were doing. Someday, though, they'll regret it. Someday soon, I'm sure of that now.  
  
/When it gets cold outside and you got nobody to love  
  
You'll understand what I mean when I say  
  
There's no way we're gonna give up  
  
And like a little girl cries in the face of a monster that lives in her dreams  
  
Is there anyone out there cause it's getting harder and harder to breathe  
  
Is there anyone out there cause it's getting harder and harder to breathe/  
  
I've made up my mind. I can't continue to live like this. It's too hard on me. They better not miss me too much-I might just decide to rejoin them. But, there'll be a catch-let's just say I hope they believe in ghosts.  
  
/Does it kill  
  
Does it burn  
  
Is it painful to learn  
  
That it's me that has all the control/  
  
I am now in complete control of everything. Why? Because everything is now over. Good thing beyblades are made of such sharp materials. They make such lovely knives. Good grief, this kills. Actually, I was talking about the pain in my wrists, but right now, this kills, too. And now I mean it in the literal sense.  
  
/Does it thrill  
  
Does it sting  
  
When you feel what I bring  
  
And you wish that you had me to hold/  
  
Let me ask you this, my so-called friends. . .will you miss me, now that I'm leaving you forever? Even if you don't, I won't care. I'm finally at peace. Who would've thought watching the red life force flowing out of your veins as you lie there, dieing, would be so absorbing?  
  
There's just a few things left to take care of. . .  
  
Oliver: It would've been nice to have taken you with me. You're practically my best friend. Plus, you can cook better then Gustav. In my books, that's quite the accomplishment. Keep Johnny and Enrique in line for me.  
  
Enrique: I'm sorry I have to leave you so soon. It would've been nice to have seen what you will become. You're a strong beyblader and a worthy opponent. You'll go far, I'm sure.  
  
And last, but certainly not least. . .Johnny. . .I'm so sorry I have to leave you like this. I cared about you, I truly did. You were more then a friend to me; far more then a mere friend. You knew how I felt about you, didn't you? You were always giving me looks out of the corner of your eye. Damn you, Oliver, you must've told him. Ah well, doesn't matter now, now does it?  
  
Damnit, it's taking a long time to die. I used to wonder why so many people killed themselves like this. I thought it was because they didn't have the guts to slit their throats, or that slitting the throat was too hard. Maybe it was.  
  
/When it gets cold outside and you got nobody to love  
  
You'll understand what I mean when I say  
  
There's no way we're gonna give up  
  
And like a little girl cries in the face of a monster that lives in her dreams  
  
Is there anyone out there cause it's getting harder and harder to breathe  
  
Is there anyone out there cause it's getting harder and harder to breathe/  
  
Is there anyone out there who cares. . .  
  
Cause it's getting harder and harder. . .  
  
To breathe.  
  
Everything is now over.  
  
* * * * *  
So, whaddya think? Tell me what you think in your review. No flames, please-this is one of my first fanfics. Constructive criticism is welcome, though. Do you want me to continue? If so, then include it in your review. 


	2. I promise you that I shall never breathe...

Disclaimer's Note: See first chapter-I'm too lazy to post it again. Oh, and I don't own the song or the person singing it.  
  
Song: Breathe Again by Toni Braxton  
  
* * * * *Johnny's POV* * * * *  
  
Damn you, Robert, how could you do this to yourself? After everything we've done together, you go ahead and kill yourself? Or at least try to? I thought you were stronger then that! I had so much faith in you. . . and you let me down. . .  
  
I never told you that, of course. But I think you knew. You always looked so hurt whenever you looked at me. Was it that obvious? I'm known for kinda wearing my heart on my sleeve-everyone is always able to tell just what I'm feeling, no matter how angry I seem.  
  
Anger. So far, I've used anger to cover up everything. But I'm so easy to see right through.Damnit Robert, why did you go and do it?! Didn't you realize how much we all cared about you?!!! How much I cared about you?!!! Answer me, you slit-wrist corpse!!!  
  
//If I never feel you in my arms again, If I never feel your tender kiss again, If I never hear "I love you" now and then, Will I never make love to you once again? Please understand, if love ends, Then I promise you, I promise you that, That I shall never breathe again. Breathe again, breathe again, That I shall never breathe again.//  
  
Okay, okay. You're not really a corpse. At least, not yet. But I'll admit it-I have very little faith of ever seeing you alive again. I'm glad I walked in when I did - you must've just slit your wrists.  
  
I'd made up my mind. I was going to tell you how I felt about you. I decided I couldn't stand one more hurt glance my way. Oliver HAD told me that you loved me. I was waaay too nervous to make the first move-what if you didn't love me anymore? Oliver never lies, and he told me that you yourself told him how much you cared for me. But people's opinions do change. I'd shoved that all aside, however. I knew I wouldn't be able to last much longer in "what if" land. So I walked down to your private suite in the castle. I didn't even bother to knock - I just barged right in. And I saw you. . . lying there. . . on blood soaked sheets. There was so much blood, I thought it was a major wound, like someone had stabbed your heart to shreds or something. But that wasn't the case. When I realized the only wounds on you were the slits in your wrists. . . and that there was blood on your attack ring, which was separate from the rest of your blade. . . I swear I just about died. Oliver says I went hysterical. Wouldn't surprise me if I did. I have no memory as to what I did after I found you like that. Luckily, you were still alive. I was relieved, at first - I though I'd lost you, and that I'd never see you again. But after sitting by your bedside for one week, I'm beginning to give up hope. I think I can take solace in the fact that you're happy now. You must be - you committed suicide. Only people who are really depressed do that.  
  
//And I can't stop thinking about,  
  
about the way things used to be,  
  
and I can't stop thinking about,  
  
about the love that you made to me.  
  
And I can't get you out of my head;  
  
how in the world will I begin  
  
to let you walk right out of my life  
  
and throw my heart away?  
  
And I can't stop caring about,  
  
about the apple of my eye,  
  
and I can't stop doing without,  
  
without the center of my life.  
  
And I can't get you out of my head,  
  
and I know I can't pretend  
  
that I won't die if you decide  
  
you won't see me again. //  
  
I just can't stop thinking about. . . well, about you. About what good friends we used to be - we were always together. About what a good couple we might've been. About your tall, lean body and chiseled face. About your keen red eyes and shiny (highly gelled) lavender hair. Good grief, how much hair gel did you use anyway? About all your qualities, good and bad, physical and mental. There's so many "what if"s. . .  
  
// If I never feel you in my arms again,  
  
if I never feel your tender kiss again,  
  
if I never hear "I love you" now and then,  
  
will I never make love to you once again?  
  
Please understand, if love ends,  
  
then I promise you, I promise you that,  
  
that I shall never breathe again.  
  
Breathe again, breathe again,  
  
that I shall never breathe again.//  
  
That does it. Who the h*** do I think I'm fooling? Gods, Robert, I want you to be alive, I honestly want you to, but you've been in a damn coma for what? A week? Seems like longer. How on earth can I be so calm? I'm so. . . well. . . I don't know how to put it. I'm thinking about so much stuff, and all at once. Things like "why did you do this to me, Robert?" and "what if I told him sooner" to "Tyson, the day I get my f***ing hands on you, you're gonna be deader (if that's even a word) then the food you eat AFTER you've eaten it."  
  
Yeah, yeah, I know. It's surprising that someone as supposedly stupid as I am can be plagued by so many thoughts at once. Goddamnit, how come everyone thinks I'm stupid? Robert, my love, is that what you thought of me, too?  
  
// And I can't stop thinking about,  
  
about the way my life would be.  
  
No, I can't stop thinking about,  
  
how could you love me then leave?  
  
And I can't get you out of my mind,  
  
God knows how hard I've tried,  
  
and if you walk right out my life,  
  
God knows I'm sure to die.  
  
And I can't stop doing without,  
  
without the rhythm of my heart.  
  
No, I can't stop doing without,  
  
for I will surely fall apart.  
  
And I can't get you out of my mind,  
  
and I know I can't deny,  
  
and I would die if you decide  
  
you won't see me again.//  
  
Is that why you left me, Robert? Someone gave you negative feedback for loving someone so stupid? Good grief, Robert, I sincerely hope not.  
  
Technically speaking, Robert, you're not dead yet. But you might as well be. You look dead. Actually, come to think of it, right now Oliver looks more dead then you do, and he's 110% alive. I know that because he's sitting on the opposite side of your bed right now. I have no clue as to how I look right now, but judging by how Oliver looks, at the very least, I probably look as ashen and as grim-faced as he does. I think people who are dead are ashen-faced, but I'm not sure. I've never seen a dead person before, but Robert, IF you die - I refuse to say when - I probably will have. And I know for a fact that it will be the worst memory I ever have.  
  
But if you survive. . . IF you survive, and I'll admit, your prospects for that aren't looking too good right now. . . well then, my beloved, we'll just have to have a little talk, now, won't we? [We should probably get together on Gustav's day off-we'll want our privacy. And no, I don't mean it like THAT.]  
  
But there's still that one pressing factor. . . what if. . . you don't. . . make it?  
  
//If I never feel you in my arms again,  
  
if I never feel your tender kiss again,  
  
if I never hear "I love you" now and then,  
  
will I never make love to you once again?  
  
Please understand, if love ends,  
  
then I promise you, I promise you that,  
  
that I shall never breathe again.  
  
Breathe again, breathe again,  
  
that I shall never breathe again.//  
  
Well then, I'd join you, to whatever afterlife awaited us.  
  
Suddenly, the machines hooked up to you start beeping like crazy. The doctors and nurses start rushing in, and I begin marveling as to how such a tiny room can hold so many people. Gradually, they begin to leave, one by one. I'm preoccupied, however, with watching you at the moment. At last, there is only one doctor in the room. He tells us how you're doing. However, I'm not really paying attention to him UNTIL I realize he's telling us how you're doing, and by then, he's finished and has left the room. Oliver, obviously sensing my state of clueless-ness, motions for me to lean over. I oblige, and he whispers something in my ear.  
  
What the. . . no way. . . And to think we doubted you all this time, Robert. I'm sure I have the biggest grin on my face right now, but I don't care. Robbie buddy, you came through for us, you really did. Sorry I ever doubted you for a moment, Rob. I remember how you used to give me cr*p every time I called you either Rob, Robbie, Bert, Bertie, Bob, or Bobby. Hey, they're all abbreviations for Robert, right? I'm trying to save time over here!!!  
  
Looks like I'll be hearing you give me cr*p for calling you that again, after all. Looks like I'll be able to call you all that stuff. You have no clue as to what happened, now, do you? Well, I'll give you a clue.  
  
Life just got a whole lot better.  
  
* * * * * And that's another chappie done!!! Well, how do you think Robert's doing? Tell me in your review!!! Sorry if I seem a lil' demanding with the reviews, but I'm a newbie here, so I need some encouragement. When I'm encouraged to write, I'm inspired to write and I wind up writing more!!! So if you like this story, review it, and I'll post another chapter up, where you can find out just what's going on with Rob!!! 


	3. Where does my heart beat now?

Disclaimer's Note: Argh!!! I don't own anything!!!! DO YOU HEAR ME, YOU EVIL LEGAL PEOPLE'S WHO WANNA SUE ME!!! Also, I'd be surprised if I even have five dollars left to spend—I went shopping yesterday, and I practically spent all my money. So sorry, you won't get much outta me if ya wanna sue me.

Song: Where does my heart beat now by Celine Dion

* * * * *Robert's POV* * * * *

        I'm trapped. Well, not exactly.  Rather, I'm torn between two paths. If I stay here, then I'll be in darkness for eternity. To my left is a light. For some strange reason, I feel as if I should be going there, and yet I don't want to—I'm afraid to. To my right is another light, but this one is where I want to go. I feel almost as if I have to make a decision, and quickly. 

        I guess I didn't make my decision quick enough, for I am suddenly pulled towards the light on my right.

The light is getting brighter. . .

And brighter. . .

        And then I'm in a field. It looks like a gorgeous place, surrounded by forest. There's a lake not too far away, with rocks all around the shoreline. All in all, it's quite picturesque. I feel calm, happy, and peaceful—not tense like I did back at the crossroads.

// So much to believe in - We were lost in time

Everything I needed

I feel into your eyes

Always thought of keepin -

Your heart next to mine

But now that seems so far away

Don't know how love could leave without a trace

Where do silent hearts go?//

        And then, I see it. Or should I say, HIM.

        I must be imagining things.

        Johnny. . . I always thought I'd be with you. Forever. And yet, one foolish act on my part may have separated us for. . . well, at least until you die. Is this where people go when they're dead? Wait a sec, it can't be. . . 

        No. . . no, I'm not imagining things. That really is you, Johnny. In which case, I can't be dead, unless you died with me. Either way, I'll be seeing you again. Even if. . . even if you don't care for me anymore.

        We used to be best friends. While our resident flirt ATTEMPTED to get Oliver to give love in return (you know, so they could be a couple), we'd laugh and try to guess when Enrique would finally stop both the playboy act and trying to get Polanski's [1] attentions because Polanski just wasn't interested. I'm not sure at all about when I fell for you. I guess it just happened.

        After I lost the battle to Tyson, the glares I received from you, Johnny, told me more then words could ever say. You lost too—but you'd hate me even more if I pointed that out. You were one of those friends that everyone wishes for. You were so loyal to me, always trying to do what I wanted (and, to some extent, what you wanted, too) [2]. Oh sure, some people saw you as Scrooge Junior, always grouchy and hateful. I hate to think that it was simply a reflection of my personality.

// Where does my heart beat now

Where is the sound

That only echoes through the night

Where does my heart beat now

I can't live without

Without feeling it inside

Where do all the lonely hearts go //

        Am I dreaming? I'm being shaked, I know that much. Strangely enough, everything begins to go black again, and pain begins to seep into my limbs. I can here a faint humming noise that sounds strangely familiar. Then the hum changes, and I can no longer recognize it.

// Candle in the water - Drifting helplessly

Hiding from the thunder -

Come and rescue me

Driven by hunger -

Of the endless dream

I'm searching for the hand that I can hold

I'm reaching for the arms that let me know

Where do silent hearts go?//

        No. . . I don't want to leave this field. Johnny looks so happy here. . . I could swear he's smiling at me. If I leave and go one way, then he won't be smiling at me—he'll be GLARING at me, and I don't know if I can take that anymore.

        And if I go the other way. . . then I don't think I'll ever see Johnny again. Or at least, if I do, then it won't be until decades from now, when he dies an old man. By then, he'll have married, had children and grandchildren, with a crown of snow-white hair and a highly wrinkled face.

        And he'll have forgotten all about me. . .

        I'm beginning to seriously regret committing suicide. I never ever considered the consequences for this. I simply focused on the rewards. Which are unsurprisingly few. 

        No. . . no, I don't want to die.

        When I'm gone. . . what will happen to everyone?

Oliver. . .

Enrique. . .

And most importantly. . .

You, Johnny.

        How could I have done something so stupid? 

        Well, duh. At the time, I genuinely wanted to die.  But alas, it is human nature to not want to die. That's how humans stay alive. Face it, if we all didn't care what happened to us, then we'd all die out a lot sooner.

// I know that out there somewhere

He waits for me

Someone who's searching just like me

Then one touch overcomes the silence

Love still survives

Two hearts needing one another

Give me wings to fly

I hear my heartbeat now

I hear the sound

Hear it echo through the night//

        Ohh. . . the pain. . .

        My wrists feel like they're on fire. No surprise there – I slashed them. My right arm feels like an elephant just stampeded over it, my right leg feels like I slashed it as well – and I didn't. The entire fricking left side of my body has gone to sleep, and I think all the circulation to my left foot has been cut off. And, to top it all off, my right hand feels like it's swelled up to the size of the Olympia Coliseum.

        Looking on the bright side, I'm still alive. I'd have to be, to be in this much pain. Somehow, I don't think you're supposed to be in pain when you're dead. That is, unless you went to that hot fiery place that begins with "H" and rhymes with "bell".

        Sorry, but I don't like swearing.

        Of course, after recalling the thoughts I had B.A.S (Before Attempted Suicide), that's such a joke, it might as well be on the Jay Leno show, or whatever that popular American comedy talk-show is called. But it's true – I honestly don't like swearing.

        I do it when I'm mad, but even then, that's a rarity.

        Ugh. . . who stabbed my shoulders? 

        I think you missed my heart by six inches and my neck by 2.

        Wait a second. . . what the h*** is that?

        Eww. . . eww. . . this is more gross then watching Tyson eat.

        I think there's something inside me. 

        Sorry for being so vague, but it feels like someone jabbed a wire until it was about halfway through my arm muscles, and left the rest of the wire sticking out of my arm, where the whole world can see it.

        Picture that. That's why I was saying "eww." In my mind at least, that is an incredibly gross mental image.

        I am now awake enough to feel that there's something extremely heavy on top of me. On my left side, to be exact. No wonder why it was numb. Good grief, it weighs as much as an ordinary human being!

        And for some strange reason, I have my arm wrapped around it. 

// I feel my heart beat now

Now that I've found

The feeling lives inside

I've got someone to give my heart to

Feel it getting stronger and stronger and stronger

Hearts are made to last

Till the end of time//

        Oh my Gosh.

        I. . . I never knew.

        Well, ain't this just peachy. Now I'm feeling even worse then I was back when I was regretting attempting suicide because I thought I was actually successful. 

        Needless to say, I now know why whatever was so heavy weighed as much as a normal human being.

        It was a normal human being. 

        I have just woken up to a sleeping Johnny, snuggled up close to me with most of him lying on the left side of my body.

        That also explains why my arm was wrapped around the object.

        This would be the ideal way to wake up each and every morning. . . if Johnny didn't lie practically on top of me.

        Right now,  I'm sure we're just the most adorable picture. This is a true Kodak moment.

        How Embarrassing. Oh well, I'm enjoying it. . . aside from that, of course.

* * * * *

[1] Oliver's official last name is unknown. There is a possibility that he was given a last name in the Japanese and Filipino versions; however, as I am not of either one of those nationalities, I wouldn't know. The most popular fan-given last names for Oliver are Du Bois, Les Demonde, and Polanski. For the purpose of this fic, his last name is Polanski.

[2] One thing I've noticed is that Johnny always seems to do what Robert does. For example, back when Robert was trash-talking teamwork, so was Johnny. When Robert changed his tune, so did Johnny. Also, with Johnny, what Robert says goes. In the episode when everyone is at Rob's castle and the Bladebreakers have just challenged the Majestics, Robert announces the battle will held at his new personal beystadium. Johnny quickly states "But Robert! They're not worth the honour!" (or something like that). Robert tells him flat-out "You are not fit to lecture me about honour, Johnny." And did we hear anything from Jonathan after that? I don't think so! Hence, Johnny is loyal.

        Please, R&R!!! Also, go to my website!!! Please!!! It's been up for over 2 weeks now (granted, I'm still working on it, but it's up), and there's zero entries in the Guestbook!!! If ya like, the address is in my bio. Just click on the lil' link thingy that says "Majestic's Angel". Sorry that I can't put it here – FF.net isn't letting me show the URL. In case you're wondering, it's a Johnny and Oliver shrine!!! Yea!!! LONG LIVE KING OLIVER AND KING JOHNNY!!!

        Okay, I think I'm getting a bit carried-away now. o_O  


	4. Party Planning

Disclaimers Note: See first chapter, I can't be bothered to re-post it.

* * * * *Oliver's POV* * * * *

        "Enrique, stop that." I tell him. Yes, I know this is a true Kodak moment, Johnny and Robert all snuggly and cozy, but still! Robert'll give you extra training for that and Johnny'll throw a fit! I can see it all now. Robert will be all red-faced with embarrassment and anger, and Johnny – well, he'll probably be looking exactly the same. And then. . .

        "Say, Oliver, how about after I finish collecting my blackmail material, we go out and - "

        Lord, no. He's hitting on me again.

        "FOR THE LAST TIME, YOU BAKA, THE ANSWER IS **NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**!!!" Hey, I actually managed to say that without any swear words. Go me. 

        "But Oliver - "

        He still doesn't get it, does he? Nope, didn't think so either.

        "Enrique, listen closely. I AIN'T INTERESTED!!! Or do you not know how to spell that?"

        I think I'm starting to get through to him now. He's beginning to look scared. He knows that whenever I sound this calm for the majority of a sentence, and so cold, that I am MAJORLY ticked. Looks like he's not as dumb as previously thought.

        "Okay." Gosh, he sounds kinda nervous. Maybe I was too hard on him.

        Enrique and I are just friends. Nothing more. Or at least, that's how it is over on my end. Over on Enrique's end, it's a different story. But sheesh, you'd think he'd get the idea and stop flirting! Yes Enrique, I know I look like a girl. Ever wonder why I don't go outside much? Guys flirt with me, girls ask me for fashion advice, and then, the moment I open my mouth and actually say something, everyone looks at me funny because I have a guys voice (that's one thing I can be thankful of). 

        Gods, what is that noise? Oh, it's just Enrique snapping even more pictures of Johnny and Robert – for blackmailing purposes, of course. And to really rub salt in the wound, he's using Johnny's Polaroid camera to do the job.

        Gotta admit. . . I feel sorry for them. No telling what Enrique is going to use it for. Maybe he'll finally humble Johnny with it.

        Johnny is notorious for his lack of humbleness. And he knows it, too. As much as Johnny is a good friend of mine, it would be hilarious to see him finally all meek and the like.

        Still, it's nice to know that Johnny and Robert finally got together. Sure, I had to do a bit of matchmaking, but they still got together.

        Lucky me, I'm the conscience of our group. Everyone tells me all their little secrets, and I help them with it, sometimes playing matchmaker (as was the case here).

        In case you're wondering what I'm talking about, I read a magazine article once on best friends and the different types of friends that everyone needed. Sure, our little group is lacking in 2 of the types of friends – there was a total of seven, and we only had five – but hey, at least we had five. 

        In our group, Robert's the mentor, Johnny's the Entertainer (honestly, with all the fights he picks, he REALLY is quite entertaining), Enrique's the cheerleader (sort of) and I double as the conscience/ little brother of the group. 

        Umm. . . Enrique . . .now might be a good time to put the camera away. I think Robert's waking up. Oh sure, he's still a bit sleepy-eyed – you would be too, if you were asleep for over a week and a half, but still – 

        Wait a second. ROBERT'S WAKING UP?!!! AFTER A WEEK AND A HALF?!!! Forget Enrique, this calls for a celebration!!! I'm gonna start cooking right away! I'm gonna call up the Louvre and rent it all out so we can party in privacy! I may even get Robert and Johnny a separate room. . . he he he. . .if you catch my drift. And then I'm going to start working out so I can defend myself against anything Enrique tries. Couldn't you just see me in a pair of boxing gloves?

        I ditch Enrique -  let him face the wrath of Johnny and Robert -  and run. I have so much to do! Where do I start?

        Aha, the kitchen! I'll flip through cookbooks and find the perfect recipes! I'll be giving them a true 7-course meal. Hope they remember to skip lunch, because they're gonna need all the room they can get in their stomachs. 

About an hour later, I'm leaving the kitchen with all the cookbooks I've chosen, with little post-it notes advertising the recipes I'll be preparing. Though by the looks of it, you'd probably be saying something like "The cookbooks are leaving the kitchen with the Oliver that they've chosen." No seriously, I've picked so many cookbooks, this will probably turn into an all-you-can-eat 7-course buffet.

        Needless to say, Tyson would be in his glory. But I'm not inviting Tyson, or anyone else, for that matter, that's not a member of the Majestic's team. Gustav will be lucky if he even gets to SERVE us. I'm considering not letting even him attend. This should be an exclusive, all-Majestics-and-only-Majestics party. 

        I better stock up on the caffeine – I'm gonna be exhausted, doing all this cooking.

Looking on the bright side. . .at least I don't have to do the dishes. We're gonna have to pay whoever does the dishes for overtime. Got to feel sorry for him.

        Speaking of feeling sorry for him. . .I think both Robert and Johnny have now woken up, caught Enrique in the act of gathering blackmail material, and are now proceeding to kill him. Goody. Wish I was there to watch it, but I still have to rent the Louvre, prepare the kitchen for all the cooking I'll be doing, do the cooking, find someone to help me with all the cooking (I'd never be able to do it all on my own), find someone to do the dishes, set aside money for the person doing the dishes, plan on how I want the Louvre designed for the party. . .the list goes on and on and on. 

        This is gonna take me forever! 

        A few hours later, the prospects for the party aren't looking much better. Johnny beat Enrique up pretty badly, so he's currently got a hospital bed of his own (thankfully, of all the places Johnny had to beat Enrique up in, it was the hospital). Robert, who is forbidden from getting out of bed, just sat there and glared the whole time. And he's still glaring, which means he isn't listening to me! And Johnny is currently getting a lecture from one of the nurses, which means he can't listen to me either! And Enrique's out cold. Argh! That means I have no help with the planning of this whatsoever, because I'm the only person who knows that this party is actually taking place!

        Okay Oliver. Calm down. You're getting far too stressed. 

        I feel much better now.

        I know. I'll make myself a to-do list. Let me see here. . .

* * *10 minutes later* * *

        Oh shit. Look at all the things I have to do. 

Pick out recipes (check).

Sort recipes into courses

Decide what china I will use for the party

Find someone to wash the dishes (check).

Rent the Louvre.

Find a French phone book so I can find out what the Louvre's phone number is.

Plan on how I'm going to be decorating the Louvre.

Find someone who'll act on my plans and decorate the Louvre.

Find music to play at the party.

Persuade parents to let me bring wine to the party. (A/N: I think the legal drinking age in France is 13 or 14)

Think about what else we'll have to drink if I'm not allowed 

wine (we can't drink tea for the whole thing!)

Contemplate on what wine glasses we'll be using (if I am allowed)

Make sure Robert is allowed to drink wine (keeping in mind that he'll have just gotten out of the hospital)

Plan on how I'll be designing Robert and Johnny's private room (if you catch my drift – hey, I've been playing matchmaker for weeks with these two – cut me some slack here!)

Make sure the surveillance cameras to Robert and Johnny's private room are turned off.

Work out so that if Enrique tries anything on me while I'm giving Robert and Johnny their private time, I can beat him up and send him to the hospital again. (A/N: No offence to Enrique-fans meant!)

Prepare for drunkenness if I'm allowed the wine (knowing us, if we are allowed the wine, all of us – even Robert – will be drunk).

Wonder how on Earth do you prepare for drunkenness outside of warning everybody and jot down a few ideas of my own as to how to prepare 

Actually do research on how to prepare for drunkenness, compare it with my own ideas, and make notes of anything I forgot to include

Be thankful I'm done the list.

        I sigh. Well, better get started, hmm? Considering I only have 2 things checked off, yup, that sounds like a great idea. Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww. . .I am so not going to enjoy this. Maybe if I can drum up some support. . .and drag Johnny's lazy ass in here to help me. . .

        Dream on, Polanski. I don't think Johnny's gonna help you out with this. He's probably too busy cuddling with Robert.  

        I don't mean to sound like a pervert or anything, but if that's the case, then I gotta check it out! I was the matchmaker in this, after all – I have every right to see whether or not they're finally together.

        The list can wait. Right now, as a good friend of both Johnny and Robert's, as well as their matchmaker, I have a right to see whether or not they've both clued in that the one they love loves them back.

* * * * *

2 things – 

1) Please R&R

2) Please visit my website and drop me a note in the guestbook. For the URL, just stick in the usual www. , then angelfire.com, and then stars4/me_me_n_metv0/splashie.html

Please ignore the lil' ads that appear half way through the site. Angelfire put them there, even though I specifically requested pop-ups (I'm on Angelfire's free hosting service, which means that I'm stuck with the ads, whether or not I like them). But what really sucks is that they've stuck ads on every single one of my pages, and in the worst spots, too! But anyway, please ignore that, and visit the site anyway!!!


	5. Musings

Yes, I'm back!!! And I'm still alive!!! So be happy!!!

And yes, I am aware that I haven't updated this fic in—gods, in almost half a year. Over 5 months, to be exact. Eeep. And I'm always complaining about authors who write really good stories but don't update them for centuries. Ok, maybe not complaining, but still—you know what I mean.

Disclaimer's Note: See first chappie from now on for that.

* * * * * Taking Action—Chapter 5—Musings* * * * *

Enrique's POV

        Damn you, Oliver.

        You have no idea how much I love you.

        That much is obvious.

        You're always insulting me, shoving me away without any respect for my feelings. God, in all the years I've known you, you've never been this self-centered before. So why are you starting now?

        I'm seriously regretting ever falling in love with you. I love you not only for your good, albeit feminine, looks, but for your personality as well. Unlike the random girls I used to pick up off the street just 'cuz they were hot, I actually care about you. I didn't care a cent about them.

        Funny Thought of the Moment: If I didn't care a cent them, then why did I spend over $100 on them at times? 

        I'm seriously messed. That's the only explanation I have for why I threw away hundred of bucks on them, and for why I still love you, even though you do nothing but hurt me, throwing away my feelings as if they're nothing more to you then those green leafy carrot-tops you cut off and throw out when you're cooking. 

        It would be nice if you actually gave a damn about me.

        I know you do. But you think of me as a best friend, not as anything more. Maybe that's why you're abusing me. You're treating me the way you would a friend, just light-heartedly bashing them. You aren't realizing how much I care for you.

        I've tried every way I could think of to get you to care for me. I've attempted to help you cook. I've bought you loads of nice things, like whole magazines filled with pictures of that Kuriko gal from that anime you really like—I think it's called Mabuharo. I've even gone so far as to wear my heart on my sleeve. I am now literally throwing myself at you.

        And you still brush me off. Why just the other day, you yelled at me, calling me an idiot when I was going to ask you a question. Hell, I wasn't going to ask you if you'd go out on a date with me. I was just going to ask you if you wanted to come with me to get some ice cream. Sort of like a date, but not quite.

        There are times when you let me get close to you, though. And it's times like that that I treasure. For example, last week, when I came in while you were getting ready. You were fully dressed—you just had to finish brushing your hair so you could put on your beret. I took your hairbrush from your hand and started brushing your hair, just trying to help, so that maybe, at the very least, you'd finally stop hurting me. By the time I was finished, we were both seated, I on your bedroom floor, and you in my lap. You were leaning against me. You looked so calm and peaceful. Just seeing your beautiful face, looking so placid and content, made me so happy.  

        You think I love you only because you look rather feminine. I don't, actually. It's more then that. As I've said earlier, I love you for who you are.

        I remember a conversation I had with you once. You were so brutally hard on yourself, bringing up every single fault you thought you had. Some faults were mere figments of your imagination; other faults I didn't even consider to be faults—I merely considered them to be part of your charm. Like your naivety. The way you were going on and on about it, you made it sound as if it were utterly inexcusable. It's cute, Oliver. Trust me—your naivety is cute. 

        You were especially hard when it came to your physical attributes. According to you, you look exactly like a female. The spitting image, minus the breasts and plus the bushy eyebrows that all guys have. Actually, you have no idea how masculine you can look when you try. And you brought up the fact that you aren't the most athletic person on the planet. You did neglect to mention, however, that you're a mean quarterback when it comes to football. Again, clearly a more masculine quality of yours, although a good deal of the gals also have this ability. 

        I sigh. Maybe someday you'll finally love me, Oliver.

        Maybe someday, I'll catch your attention.

        I only wish it was a Christmas party you were brainstorming, and not the "Robert's-Happy-and-Healthy-after-Committing-Suicide!!!" party. Not that I have anything wrong with celebrating Robert's getting out of the hospital. It's just that I wanna catch you under mistletoe.

        Then an idea comes to me. The party…yeah. I can talk to you at the party. I uncovered your plans for the party. I noticed that you want to get Johnny and Robert a separate room—cute—and that you think I'm going to try something while they're in their room, making out or getting it on under the covers or whatever they decide to do. (A/N: There is a reason why this story is rated PG13). It hurts to think that you think I'm going to try to rape you or something while they're in their room. 

        Then again, all you've really been doing lately is hurting me.

        That does it. I'm going to talk to you at the party. I'm not going to hold back anything. I'll tell you everything; even the pain you cause me when you tell me stuff like "Get lost, idiot!!!"

        Maybe you'll finally be able to see how much I care about you.

* * * * * Oliver's POV * * * * *

        Enrique. God, how I love saying your name. Awn-rrri-kay. It sounds so cool.

        Enrique.

        I'm so sorry, Enrique.

        Sorry for all the times I brushed you off as though you were nothing. Sorry for causing you so much pain.

        You're right. I did treat you more as a best friend then I did as someone who was genuinely interested in me. Best friends tease each other. Best friends insult each other regularly; although they never mean what they say. Or at least, I never meant anything whenever I made a cutting remark. But love leaves you vulnerable. I failed to remember that. And now you've been reduced to such a pitiful state. You're literally throwing yourself at my feet. 

        You have Johnny to thank for opening my eyes to what has happened to you. He heard me call you a baka, and after he had finished beating you up for taking pictures of him snuggling with Robert, he came to find me, telling me how I should go a hell of a lot easier on you. He brought up all the things you did for me, like chopping onions for me (considering onions are evil, vile plants that make everybody cry, including me and you), and how you were now literally reducing yourself to begging me to notice you. You were practically down on your knees pleading (A/N: Not like that, pervs!!!), and I still brushed you off like a strand of my lime hair clinging to my shirt. 

        And then I remembered how happy and peaceful I felt when you brushed my hair. I felt warm and fuzzy and loved. 

        And now I realize…you got me, Enrique.

        You got me good, too.

        I love you, Enrique. 

        I love you, and I'm truly, genuinely, sorry.

        But how will I ever make it up to you?

        Normally, considering my rather forward nature towards the more delicate things (like love), I'd just march right in to Enrique's room, announce I was going to give him a late Christmas gift or something like that, then kiss him smack on the lips, and let the apologies come afterwards. But I don't even know if he still loves me anymore.

        It's highly doubtful that he does, considering all the crap I've put him through. I know I wouldn't love anybody who gave me as much shit as I've given Enrique.

        I'm scared, I admit. Not scared of Enrique and how he feels towards me; Paris is for lovers, and as a Parisian, I will freely admit to being very forward when it comes to love. Hell, I've seen couples frenching in the park ever since I was little. Sometimes, I've even seen worse then that. Trust me, love itself does not scare me. I'm scared because I'm worried: what if I've discovered my love for Enrique too late? What if he hates me now?

        Well, there's only one way to find out. I grab a mint as I get off my bed and head towards my door. Sucking on the mint, I can only hope and pray that Enrique has good breath.

        I've made up my mind. There's only one way to know if Enrique still love me.

        I'm going to barge into his room, uninvited. And I'm going to pin him up against the wall or to his bed, depending on which one he's closest to.

        And I'm going to kiss him.

        Hopefully, he doesn't hate me for treating his heart so lightly. I've given him so many reasons to, that'd be a miracle. 

        Then again, maybe he'll forgive me, and give me a second chance.

        Please, Enrique…

        I love you.

* * * * *

        Originally, I was worried that I'd made Enrique and Oliver sound a bit too proper. Then I read this through and discovered that no, I had not. Or at least, I don't think I did. I did notice one thing, though. At the end of Oliver's POV, I accidentally sorta switched the POV with which he was speaking about Enrique in.  Oliver went from sounding as if he was talking to Enrique to sounding as if he was talking _about_ Enrique (but not necessarily to him), and then back to talking to Enrique. Again, sorry about that, although I do believe that that's a relatively minor mistake. Getting back on topic (with the story and all)…Whaddya think? 


	6. Get this Party Started or at least, atte...

Guess who's ba-ack!!! With another chappie for ya'all!!!

This story has now been officially resurrected from the dead.

I don't own Pepsi, just so ya'all know. You'll know what I mean once you've started reading.

Taking Action—Chapter 6—Get this Party Started

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Normal POV

Enrique winced when he heard the crash. Mentally, he started calculating how much damage had been done, and how much whatever was broken would cost to replace.

All the other Majestics had known better then to let Oliver near the Pepsi. But Oliver always claimed he needed a 'daily dose of caffeine'—which came in the form of a 550-mL Pepsi bottle. Now that Oliver had his caffeine, he was walking around like a drunk, tripping over things that had been previously thought untrippable.

Enrique hurried downstairs to see what Oliver had broken now. He stopped as soon as he saw who was cleaning up all the fragments of broken china and glass. He didn't even run over to Oliver to see how the caffeine-high French teen was doing.

"Robert? What are you doing here?"

Robert didn't even bother to turn around. "I got out of the hospital early."

"Really? How ya doin'?"

"I'm doing well."

Oliver groaned. Owwie…there was a line of stinging pain down his forehead. Oliver could feel the warm, thick fluid trickling down his face from it. There were similar stinging lines, except more severe, on his cheek and hands as well. Ouch…Oliver had to admit, that had been his klutzy-ist fall yet.

"Oliver?" Enrique's voice sounded like it was coming from far away.

"Yeah?" Oliver responded, dazed.

"You OK?"

"I think so…" Oliver's voice trailed off at the end. The ground was rippling beneath him; and the room seemed to spin around him.

"Oliver?...Oh my god…Oliver!" Enrique exclaimed as soon as he saw Oliver's face. Blood was trickling down Oliver's hands, as well as from a large cut on his forehead and a very deep looking cut on his cheek.

"What is it, Enrique?" Oliver asked, staring at Enrique blankly. Now the whole room was spinning very quickly, and the floor was heaving. "Uhhh…" Oliver moaned. He felt so nauseous…

Enrique caught Oliver before he slid to the floor. "What did he do? Get the china teapot to explode in his face or something?" Enrique asked.

"More like he crashed face-first into it." Robert replied calmly.

"Guess this means no more caffeine for Oliver."

"Nope. It just means we have to get him onto coffee that much sooner."

"What's the difference between coffee and Pepsi?"

"Pepsi has sugar. Coffee only has sugar if you add it. Thus, Oliver gets more hyper off of Pepsi then coffee. That is, unless he raids a sugar plantation and adds it all to his coffee."

"Oh. Okay." Enrique seemed satisfied with Robert's answer. "Looks like it's time for another trip to the hospital, huh?"

Robert smiled wryly. "We'll be on a first-name basis with all the staff if this keeps up."

Enrique smirked at that. "Yeah."

The sun shone warmly on the two figures in the luxurious four-poster canopy bed. Oliver had gone to the hospital and gotten stitches; and now he was at Enrique's house with the other 3 Majestics, recovering, which so far had translated into sleeping every spare moment he got. Enrique lay close to him, one arm draped over him possessively, lying on top of the covers.

_'Mmmm…' _Oliver stirred. He felt warm…inside and out…

Moving to get up, Oliver was surprised to feel a weight leaning against him. "Enrique?" he asked tiredly.

"Uhh…" Enrique moaned, just beginning to wake up. "Heya…how ya doin'?"

"Just great, though my face feels stiff." Oliver responded, blushing red. Enrique **was** awfully close…

"Great!" Enrique chirped. "Now, lets get you out of bed, LazyButt, and on to doing other things!!! How's the party coming along?"

Oliver groaned. "Not well at all…why?"

"Just wondering. Why don't you work on the party prepping now? I'll help if you need me to."

"Okay. Sure!" Oliver responded happily.

Half an hour later, the 2 boys had come up with a revised checklist.

The list went something like this:

1) Pick out recipes.

2) Sort recipes into courses.

3) Find someone to wash the dishes.

4) Rent the Louvre.

5) Find and go through a French phonebook to find out what the Louvre's phone number is.

6) Hire musicians to play at the party.

7) Choose wine and champagne for the party.

"Great!" Enrique chirped. "Let's get started!"

Oliver groaned. Why was he throwing a party again? He just wanted to sleep…

Robert found himself lured to the fourth floor master ballroom's adjacent drawing room. Someone was playing electric guitar in there…and they were pretty damn good at it, too. He opened the door, to find Johnny sitting on the low couch, in the corner by the big window, just plucking guitar strings to his heart's content on a big shiny black electric guitar.

Johnny looked up upon finally coming out of the dreamland he'd been in, and noticed Robert in the doorway.

"Robert!!! What in hell are you doing outside of the hospital!!!" Johnny exclaimed.

"I got sent home early." Robert said simply.

Johnny would've said more, but then raised voices were heard, sound suspiciously like Oliver's and Enrique's.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?! The flour's gonna come tumbling down on top of you!!!"

Seconds later, a thump was heard, followed by a yell.

"Can I say I told you so now?! You friggin' idiot!!!"

"Hey, back off Oliver" a second voice chimed in. "Look, I'm trying my best to help you, okay? If you don't want my help, just say so, and I'll go!!! It's as simple as that!!!"

Another loud thud was heard.

"Enrique…" Oliver said in a small, upset voice.

"This does it!!! Screw you, I'm not gonna help anymore!!! All you do is yell at me!!! If I want to be yelled at, I'll go bug my crabby old aunt!!!" With that, Enrique stormed out of the kitchen, leaving Oliver all alone.

"Enrique…" Oliver's voice trailed off. Sinking to his knees, he began to sob silently. He'd really done it now, hadn't he? He'd tried so hard to be nice to Enrique, in the hopes that Enrique would maybe notice the change and make another move on him, but now that seemed all gone. Damnit!!! Why did he have to be such a goddamn perfectionist?

Robert and Johnny looked in on the scene sadly.

"Does Oliver love—" Robert began, but was interrupted.

"Yes, he does." Johnny finished. "But Oliver is so obsessed with having everything just so…and Enrique's super-sensitive right now…" Johnny sighed. "It doesn't look like anything will go smoothly for them for a little while at least."

Turning to Robert, Johnny continued. "Go in, and comfort Oliver as best you can without hugging him or anything—if Enrique sees that, he'll get jealous, and that's the last thing we—and they—need right now. I'll go talk to Enrique."

Robert raised an eyebrow. It was very unlike Johnny to be so logical and level-headed. "Shouldn't someone talk to Oliver?"

"I already did." Johnny replied. "Okay, okay, all I did was sit Oliver down in Enrique's room and forced him to read Enrique's diary, but hey, we had a bit of conversation."

"Has Enrique found out? About Oliver reading his diary, I mean."

"Nope." Johnny turned away and left to talk to Enrique, leaving Robert to go in and comfort the still-sobbing Oliver, who by now had curled up into a little corner in the kitchen. Robert paused before entering. _"How on Earth am I going to do this?_" he thought.

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R&R, please!!! Any questions, and I'll do my best to answer them!!! sighs I really don't think this was one of my better chapters, but it's not too bad. Review, and tell me how I did, 'kay?

Reviews inspire me, and when I'm inspired, I write!!! It's as simple as that!!!

I'd really love to get at least 4 reviews for this chapter. That's not too much to ask for, now, is it?


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